


seeing her again

by kurooos



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Dream Sex, Established Relationship, F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Season 8 Spoilers, Tentacles, Top Allura (Voltron), Xenophilia, allurance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-20 07:54:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17018733
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kurooos/pseuds/kurooos
Summary: After everything is over, Lance dreams about Allura.





	seeing her again

**Author's Note:**

> i'm pretending season 8 was a reality that didn't happen, but I wrote this anyway. Sorry. This is just PWP of Allura pounding Lance's cute ass.

Lance misses the small things.

Fingers between his own, white hair tickling his neck, the warmth of another body against his.

Of course he misses Allura. He misses her more than just his girlfriend. He misses her as a part of Voltron. She was a bond they were all connected to and with her gone it’s an aching ghost of a feeling.

He dreams about the heat of her hands cupping his face, her lips on his while they said their goodbyes, tears slipping between their lips.

“I will always be with you” echoed in his chest as liquid warmth filled his veins. Still feeling her touch as she walked away with Honerva.

It was like carrying around a reminder of her. Those little blue markings under his eyes made him comfortable. He chalks it up to sappy sentimentality that he’s able to stop crying so fast the weeks that follow.

He never forgets, and he doesn’t simply get over her, but the hurt is easier to live with every time he looks in the mirror.

Countless nights he spends restlessly staring out his window at the stars, thinking about nothing and everything and letting these past few years really sink in. He’s gone through a lot. Voltron has gone through a lot.

“Lance,” a voice calls, soft and too far away for him to catch. It floats over again and Lance drags his eyes open.

It’s to pale white hair blanketing their faces and Allura smiling so brilliantly Lance immediately knows he’s dreaming.

Allura laughs quietly and kisses him, “you’re not dreaming”

Her mouth is moving and he can’t hear her. She’s speaking words that Lance cannot understand and for a moment, dumbstruck, all he can do is bring a hand up to touch her.  
Allura leans warmly into his fingers, lips pressing to his palm and then his wrist. Her eyes keep him pinned in place, daring him to move and disturb their moment.

Their lips meet again and with this pass, Lance can feel her body slide up against his. He’s lost in it, in feeling her once again that he doesn’t care about the whys or the hows. All he wants is her and he slips an arm around her waist to hug her close as tears burn behind his eyes.

Her face lights up with a soft glow and he doesn’t understand why until he can see the soft reflection of his altean markings in her eyes.

“Darling,” _how I’ve missed you_.

Lance gasps into her mouth, fingers curling in her hair and bunching up her shirt. He gives a desperate pull and finds that the fabric slips between his fingers and dissolves.  
This is weird, he tries to tell himself. But the thoughts get pushed back each time she kisses him. Shoved with the flip of his stomach when she takes his hand against her breast and leans into him with a soft noise. Oh. _Oh_.

Her hand goes gently up over his chest, bare skin against bare skin and he wonders when he got undressed. Allura’s thigh gently rubs between his and when did I go to bed naked? Allura keeps moving, keeps changing them somehow until he’s pinning her back on the bed and straddling her hips. He leans up, wanting to see her clearly.

The bed has a rosy pink tint to it, edges blurry and fading away and Lance can’t see the rest of the room. Allura’s hair is longer than he remembers it being, curling away from her face as she relaxes on the pillows.

She allows him to look his fill, over smooth dark skin, the curve of her lips, the swell and soft rise of her chest with each breath, the taught line of her stomach and the soft blue markings that begin just under her ribs and swirl down. Lance sits back, expecting to meet her thighs behind him, and settles on the bed instead, her legs now up over his hips like he’d sat right through them.

His fingers dance up her thighs, parting her legs to look her over as she rolls her shoulders back and sighs. Her hand reaches for him, fingers gentle and thin and warm and  commanding under his jaw as she guides his face down. He bends with it, giving in easily.

“That’s it,” she praises with a sigh, body melting against the bed at the first warm run of his tongue between her folds. Lance can’t stop his moan, tongue pressing softer to savor this.

They’ve done this countless times before, too rushed with the intimacy to think that they might be taking things too fast. Lance knows her body well, knows that she likes it when he takes his time and teases and drags his tongue as slow as he can.

He knows she loves the heat of his mouth on the small winding blue markings on either side of her pussy, curling at the meet of her thighs and cheeks.

But there’s only so much Allura can take, and she doesn’t have the time to let Lance stay between her legs all night, as lovely as it would be. She wants more from him.

The next filthy wet draw of his tongue is met with movement, flesh swelling with blood and pulsing under his tongue. He sucks gently just under her clit, flat tongue coaxing until his mouth is filled with weight and curling and yes- _yes_ -

The first time he figured out his girlfriend had an alien dick, he promptly had a freak out about it. It wasn’t that he disliked it, but he’d have rather Allura told him he’d be getting a writhing blue tentacle in his mouth that night.

It’s how he figured out that Allura wasn’t all prim proper princess and seriousness. She’d laughed at him, tentacle still writhing between her thighs as her cheeks grew pink.  
It was a vivid memory, of how hard he’d fallen yet again for the princess. For the funny, prankster side of her he’d not seen.

Fingers in his hair tug him out of his memories, pulling impatiently until he’s leaning back with a small gag. Allura looks down at him as her tentacle curls at the edge of his mouth and then smears a wet line to his chin, up his jaw as if to apologize for choking him.

Lance can’t help but laugh, misty eyed despite his pleasure, as he kisses over the blue slick appendage, down until he can wiggle his tongue under it and between her folds.  
She gasps, hips flexing towards his face and the warm tentacle curls against his ear, behind it and into his hair. Eugh he’d need a shower after this.

Her hips move in small, tight circles, stuttering when he manages to sneak a finger in alongside his tongue, and then two when she gushes against his chin.

He can barely hear her little moans when her thighs are so tight against his head, but damn it’s more rewarding to feel the shaking of her muscles, begging him to not stop even when her hands are pushing him away.

He’s so hard it aches, so painful when Allura’s leg brushes against him in their repositioning. He’s out of breath already and all he needs is a few strokes of her fingers or even the tight slick grip of her tentacle, coiled and pulsing around him.

He barely gets what he wants, feeling Allura chase the last threads of her climax against his cock as she ruts against him until he’s just as dripping wet as she is. Lance begs her to sit up a little higher. He rolls up against her, the head of his cock missing and gliding between her folds and bumping under the swollen base of the tentacle.

Pressure curls between his cheeks and he gasps, cock twitching against his hip.

Allura is tapered at the soft blue tip, entirety of her sex slick and wet enough to make the slide not hurt, but _fuck_ she’s big. Especially now, completely worked up and not holding back. The tentacle at its length is definitely as big as his forearm, and Lance has only ever succeeded in getting her halfway in before feeling too full.

He’s too busy worrying about it to register that she's already started to push inside. Consciousness coming back when the hot jolt of Allura’s hips bumping into his ass makes him groan. He looks down to see his stomach barely distended and Allura’s head rolls back, pretty mouth parted on a moan of his name.

The soft, pink blurry edges are back, encroaching on Allura’s white hair now, backlighting her bare shoulders and arms, his own leg that gets pulled over her shoulder.

His voice is lost when she grinds into him, tentacle inside taking up every bit of space and pressing on every nerve. He’s a live-wire, sparking at every point of contact. Burning brighter when it writhes.

Allura’s hands settle on his chest, pushing him down firmly as she braces herself with the first thrust. Shit, not for herself. For _him_. The bed slams against the wall, drywall splintering and paint chipping.

Lance stares up at the wooden headboard, delirious and quiznak this is his room at _home_. The Garrison and space posters bleed into place on the walls and then the room tilts and Allura is taking up the view.

His hands dig into her hips, nails biting and pulling, feeling the force behind each thrust that makes his toes curl and his voice break on his moans. He forgets where he ends and Allura begins, their touches blur into each other and he can feel what she can, the curling heat in his stomach building and cresting.

“Allura- Princess, _please_!”

His voice is distant, called from the ceiling above them. He doesn’t want to hear it, would rather Allura’s gasps and whimpers in his ears as she takes and takes and takes. His legs are starting to go numb with it all, throat sore, hot and sweaty and screaming without caring if anyone was home to hear it.

Her fingers tighten over his thighs, sure to leave bruises at her alien strength. The tentacle inside him swells impossibly bigger, wiggles in deeper until Lance is choking and back arching from his sheets.

He’s distantly aware that he’s cumming while she fills him up, moans lost to cries and pleas of the princess’ name. Lance is glad for the way she holds him, hugs him close in her arms as they shift and resettle with him in her lap. Allura is on her knees, holding him steady against her chest as he rolls up into his body. Lance pants against her collarbones while she hums low and satisfied against his shoulder, kissing and sucking.

His eyes catch the alarm clock behind Allura’s shoulder, sitting on the grey-white ledge of his bed in the Castle. His back touches the cold wall of his room as Allura leans forward and it’s filled with the crystal blue glow. The rosy tint on his vision is gone now, even when he tries to focus on it.

Allura kisses him, open and claiming and still sweet. Bittersweet. Her thumbs brush off his tears he’d not realized had been falling, and his hand comes up to do the same for her.

He wants to ask what’s wrong, but he can’t feel his mouth. Allura holds him in place with a look, like she’s memorizing him for the last time. Her lips press to each of the glowing blue markings under his eyes.

“Next year.” She whispers, like a promise. He holds onto her wrist, trying to part lips that didn’t exist, trying to move a tongue he didn’t have. Don't go. Don't go again, please don't go.

She’s glowing, pure white. It burns to watch, and his vision blurs with tears until they squeeze shut.

His mouth returns, his mind comes back to him like a bullet, and he shoots up in bed with a gasp. His heart is racing laps in his chest.

The room is dark, he’s dressed, and he’s alone.

**Author's Note:**

> I can't begin to tell you how hard it was to not call Allura's alien bits a bulge and nook, save me.


End file.
